X-Ray
by inkstainedfingers97
Summary: Birthdays. Breakfast. And bones. A very specific set of bones, to be precise.


Spoilers: Through season 4, I guess.

Rating: T

A/N: I stopped watching Bones a while back, but had this and a couple other stories saved on my hard drive from a few years ago, so figured I might as well dust them off and send them out into the universe. Enjoy.

"Morning, Zack," Temperance Brennan said absently as she walked into the lab. "Do you have the skull reconstruction you were working on ready for me?"

"Happy birthday, Dr. Brennan," Zack replied. "Yes, the skull reconstruction is ready."

She started. Was it…? She flushed, embarrassed that she'd forgotten her own birthday. Of course, it was somewhat arbitrary to choose the anniversary of one's birth to single that person out for special attention, but she had been known to enjoy the celebratory nature of those occasions, both for herself and for other people. And naturally, she hadn't forgotten the actual date of her birthday, she'd just… lost track of time. She came back to herself and realized her assistant was waiting for some acknowledgment. "Thank you, Zack."

"You're welcome, Dr. Brennan."

She picked up the skull reconstruction and went into her office, still slightly disconcerted.

Angela breezed in after she'd been in there for a few minutes and gave her a hug. "Happy birthday, sweetie."

"Thanks, Ange," she said distractedly.

As the morning progressed, Dr. Saroyan wished her a happy birthday, as did Dr. Hodgins.

She stayed in her office, absorbed in her work, but a small, illogical part of her couldn't help wondering what Booth was doing. Logically, they'd just finished a case, so he probably had paperwork to do. Which he should do, because that was his job. There was certainly no reason for him to drop his work and come to the lab simply because it was her birthday. Just because he'd surprised her with some kind of ridiculous present every year for the past three years didn't mean he was going to do so again this year.

"Morning, Bones!"

She hid a smile and schooled her expression into one of neutral interest as her partner ambled through her open door. "Good morning."

"Great day to deal with death and destruction, isn't it?"

"I really don't see how you could possibly quantify something like that—"

"Whatever, Bones, let's go. I'm starving and I'd bet my favorite gun you haven't had any breakfast this morning."

"As a matter of fact, I had a grapefruit this morning," she countered.

"Grapefruit! I rest my case. Grapefruit, Bones, is not a real breakfast."

"Of course it is, it's a highly nutritious fruit that is an excellent source of vitamin C."

"Naw, you need something with a little more substance, Bones, if you're going to be able to make it through the day with all these dead bodies around."

"Just because I don't need to eat every twenty minutes like you do doesn't mean I'm not capable of furnishing myself with a nutritious diet," she argued.

"True or false, Bones: if I don't take you out to eat at least twice a day, you would forget to eat half the time and you'd subsist on a few bites of three day old salad and maybe a cup of organic yogurt once in a while."

"There is a flaw in your argument, Booth. We spend most of the day together almost every day. Logically, it makes sense that—"

He rolled his eyes. "Are you coming, or not?"

She sniffed. "I suppose I could let the facial reconstruction wait a little while longer."

"Great. Let's go." And he turned and walked out the door.

She stared after him, frowning slightly. She'd grown accustomed to him ushering her along when he wanted to go somewhere. Of course it was completely unnecessary, as she was perfectly capable of putting her coat on by herself. And there was really no logical reason for him to guide her with his hand at the small of her back, since naturally she had no need of ambulatory assistance. In fact, she'd even told Angela that she found his tendency to herd her irritating, so it made no sense to feel mildly let down when he failed to do so.

She followed him. They ate breakfast. On the way back, she felt disappointed for no logical reason she could think of. Of course, the whole practice of celebrating birthdays was largely antiquated and mostly pointless, but Booth, in her experience, wasn't prone to forgetting things like that. He was apt to make a far bigger deal of the event than she was herself, decking out everyone in the lab with paper hats and party favors and presenting her a lavishly decorated cupcake at the diner with more fanfare than one could possibly imagine could be associated with such a small delicacy. Really, it was hypocritical to feel put out that Booth hadn't remembered to wish her a happy birthday when she hadn't even remembered the date herself.

She huffed impatiently at herself. She was being ridiculous. Booth wasn't—

"Close your eyes."

She stopped short, barely avoiding running into Booth, who had turned and planted himself in her path. "Why?"

"Because, Bones."

"That isn't a reason—"

"C'mon, Bones, for once in your life, don't argue."

She stared at him, nonplussed, and he sighed theatrically. "Fine." He came around behind her and covered her eyes with his hands. "Okay, here we go," he said cheerfully, urging her forward.

"Booth, I can't see," she protested.

"That's kind of the point of the whole covering your eyes thing, Bones. Don't worry, I won't let you run into anything."

She knew Booth wouldn't let her get hurt, of course, but the experience of blindness was still discomfiting. "What is the point of this, Booth?"

"You'll see, Bones."

"But I can't see at all right now."

"That's why I said, 'you WILL see,' Bones. You need to learn patience, you know that?"

Twenty seven steps later, they came to a halt.

"You ready?" Booth asked in her ear.

The feeling of his breath on her ear was very distracting. "For what?"

"Your surprise, Bones."

"I don't like surprises."

"You like my surprises, Bones, there's no point in denying it."

She huffed impatiently again. "Are you going to let me see, or not?"

"Okay. Ready? One… two… three!"

He lifted his hand from her eyes. She blinked, her eyes readjusting to the light. She looked around. "It's my office. My office is supposed to surprise me?"

Booth rolled his eyes. "No, Bones, it's what's in your office that is the surprise." He gestured to a large rectangular hanging covered with a dark cloth hanging on the wall.

She frowned. "What is it?"

"It's your birthday present."

"My birthday present?"

"Yeah. It's from me and Angela."

"You and Angela?" she repeated. Angela usually got her jewelry or expensive bath products. Booth got her gifts like Smurf figurines, plastic pigs, and Christmas trees. It was hard to imagine a gift that the two of them might have collaborated on.

"It was Booth's idea," came Angela's voice from the doorway as she entered the room. "I just helped with the execution."

"Oh," said Brennan, puzzled. "Well, thank you for… the rectangular hanging on my office wall."

Booth rolled his eyes. "What'd I just say, Bones? Patience." He strode over to the hanging and took hold of the cloth covering it. He turned and looked at Brennan expectantly. "You ready?"

She nodded, though his question had been vague, imprecise, and repetitive.

"Okay, here we go." He pulled off the cloth with a flourish. "Ta da!"

It was an x-ray. A giant, life size x-ray of an adult male printed onto a single large sheet of film. Brennan moved towards it unconsciously. The image was of a live person. The figure was standing, hands on his hips, hip cocked slightly to one side.

Brennan stood stock still for a full minute before she moved towards it, her eyes drinking in the sight of it. "It's you," she breathed, reaching forward and touching the print. "Booth, this is you."

Booth chuckled. "Very good, Bones. I wasn't sure you'd be able to tell who it was if it wasn't a dead person whose bones were right in front of you."

She didn't answer. Her fingers traced the manubrium sterni… the clavicle… the humerus. Her eyes roamed over the zygomatic, the sphenoid, the lacrimal bones. Examined the scapula, the proximal and distal phalanges. Followed the lines of the ribs and the vertebrae to the sacrum, the innominate. The femur, the largest bone in the body. Patella, tibia, fibula. The talus; the navicular, the medial, intermediate, and lateral cuniform; the cuboid.

She touched the place where his right humerus met the clavicle and scapula. "You hurt your shoulder playing baseball. Probably in college. You worked hard to heal, to get your full strength back, but it still bothers you once in a while."

Her voice was soft and wondering in its appraisal. Angela wondered if she had any idea what she sounded like, sometimes, when she was reading bones. Like she was reciting a mythic ballad in a lost language, or something.

"You broke your wrist while riding a bike when you were seven." She traced a line from the carpals to the metacarpals. "And you broke several bones in your hand sometime in the last few years. Probably not long before you met me."

Booth was mesmerized, watching her discover his past like this, and for once, he didn't respond. Just watched.

"Left patella, right tibia- more sports injuries. Basketball, and hockey, I'd say. And stress markers on both legs from endurance training, mostly running, some plyometrics and strengthening exercises. You push yourself to the limit of what your body can handle when you play."

"Your feet… I remember this from when the fridge blew up. You were tortured. You don't talk about it, but it's right here. Your right femur, too… I can't imagine the pain you must have been in."

Back to the top. She touched the frontal bone, just above the temporal bone on the right side. "Here… someone much larger than you struck you when you were twelve or thirteen. Probably your father one night after he'd been drinking. The remodeling makes it almost not noticeable. You probably had a concussion, but you could have gotten away with pretending it didn't hurt as much as it did."

She fell silent, considering this, and came to her own conclusions. Her eyes continued to travel the length and breadth of his image, studying the anomalies, filling in the blanks. Discovering the stories that had built the man who was Booth.

Angela and Booth watched her, transfixed. They exchanged a glance acknowledging the pure beauty of Brennan when she was lost in reading someone's life history from the evidence of their body.

At last, she turned around. She went to Angela first. "Thank you," she whispered, hugging her artist friend. "This is truly amazing."

"Don't mention it," Angela said, hugging her back. "We just wanted to do something special for you. I'm glad you like it." She gave her friend a final squeeze and turned her around so she was facing Booth again. "Now, I'm going to make myself scarce, and you are going to show your appreciation to that hunk of a man over there."

Angela left, and Brennan crossed the room towards Booth. "Booth," she said, and her voice, through no intention of her own, was decidedly choked up.

He smiled at her. "Happy birthday, Bones."

She flung her arms around his neck. "This is the best birthday present anyone has ever given me," she told him fiercely. "Thank you."

He closed his eyes and reveled in the feeling of her pressed up against him, the cinnamon and hazelnut smell of her, the sensation of her hair against his chin. "You're welcome, Bones."

She pulled back and looked into his eyes searchingly. "Last time… when you were hurt, you didn't want me to see your x-rays."

He shrugged uncomfortably. "Well, I didn't want you to figure out all my secrets from looking at my skeleton."

It was meant to be a joke, but she said seriously, "And now?"

For once, he indulged the instinct to run his fingers through her silky hair. "Well, over the years, you've shared things with me. Things that were hard for you to share. So I figured it was time I repaid the trust that you gave me by sharing something of myself."

She glanced over at the rendering of Booth's skeleton on her wall before meeting his eyes again. "I love my gift, Booth."

A grin broke out over his face. "Really?"

Belatedly, she realized her words could be interpreted to mean she in fact loved the figure the photo represented, rather than the x-ray itself. "Yes. I really love it."


End file.
